“Do you forgive me?” he murmured against her sensitive skin.
She’d never wanted a hickey in her life, but suddenly, she wanted one from Gentry more than anything in the world.
“No,” she said on a breath.
Gentry turned her in his arms and walked her backward, slowly, gripping the back of her neck with one hand and resting his other securely on her hip.
When her back hit a tree, Gentry turned her face and kissed her right behind her ear, right where she’d gotten a little heart tattoo at age eighteen when she had one of her only moments of rebellion.
“I’ve wanted to kiss that little fucking heart all day,” he whispered against her ear. “Has anyone kissed it before?”
“No,” she uttered helplessly. Why were her legs going numb?
“Good. It’s all mine then.” He kissed it again, let his lips linger, then dipped his affection to her neck. “Do you forgive me now?”
Blaire blinked slowly at the full moon through the bare tree branches above. “No?” The word came out soft, like a question. Why? Because it was a huge lie. He’d basically kissed her into a coma without even touching her lips, and he was now forgiven for everything he had done and everything he would do again.
Gentry’s chuckle was deep and resonated through his chest. He hadn’t put his jacket back on, and her hand was splayed over the perfect line between his defined pecs. She could feel his laugh, but not well enough, so she pulled off her glove with her teeth and let it drop to the snow beside them. And then she slid her hand under the hem of his shirt. He twitched and then punched out a slight breath when her fingers brushed the lowest of his abs.
Her hands were cold, while Gentry felt like he was running a fever. A sliver of worry washed through her. “Are you okay?” Maybe he was coming down with a cold or something.
Gentry responded by pressing his hips against hers and guiding her wrist up higher under his shirt. “Never been better, Trouble. Now you’re earning my forgiveness, too.”
“Your forgiveness,” she snorted.
“Who threw the first snowball?”
“Oh.”
His abs were like mounds of stone, but his skin was smooth and soft. Up, up, she pressed on, memorizing his body until she reached his chest. And there, he splayed her palm against his pec, right over his pounding heart. His breathing was deeper, his cheeks flushed, and his erection was so hard against her she forgot the cold completely. It was so easy to get lost in moments like these with a man like Gentry. No, not a man like Gentry. Just Gentry. She’d never felt so consumed by another person in her entire life. It was terrifying and beautiful all at once.
“Can I tell you something?” he murmured, trapping her in that bright green gaze.
“You can tell me anything.” And she meant it. She wanted to know everything about this man who was pulling yet another of her heartstrings onto him.
“I’m taking you someplace that’s really special to me, to my family, and it used to be special to the people of this town. It’s called Winter’s Edge.”
Chills blasted up her arms, but it wasn’t from the cold. The way he’d said Winter’s Edge, so reverently, made her realize just how special the paintbrush gift had been. He was showing her a big part of himself tonight. Gentry was letting her in.
“What is it?” she whispered.
His heart pounded faster under her palm, and he gripped her hips. “It’s a bar. My dad left the place to me in his will. I haven’t been back to this town in years, but I have good memories. Some, anyway. Winter’s Edge is one of them. I grew up playing there, learning the business, working there when I was old enough. It was supposed to be mine.”
“Like the inn?”
“The inn is secondary income. My dad didn’t even make enough to float us on rentals at the inn, but Winter’s Edge was where everyone used to hang out.”
“What happened to it?”
“My dad died.”
“When?” she whispered.
Gentry scrubbed his hand down his face and swallowed hard before he answered. “A week and a half ago.”
“Gentry,” she drawled out, her heart breaking for him. Blaire didn’t know what possessed her to do it, but she stood up on her tiptoes and rested her cheek against his. They weren’t hugging, just standing there, touching faces, both of their breath shaking in the silence of the night.
There were no words that she could say to make this easier on him, so she waited. And waited. And when he finally did pull her into a tight hug, she did her best to blink back the moisture that rimmed her eyes. She couldn’t even imagine losing her mom. A week and a half? It had just barely happened, and Gentry had been walking around with all this pain, seemingly normal, and now she was starting to get a glimpse of just how strong Gentry Striker was. Not just physically—that had been apparent from day one. But he was strong emotionally in ways she truly respected.
“I went to Winter’s Edge earlier to see if it needed repairs. I didn’t think it would need anything, my dad loved that bar more than anything, but when I went inside, it looked like no one had been in there for years. And I don’t know what the fuck is going on in this town, Blaire. I came back, and nothing’s what I thought it was. I talked to my dad on the phone all the time, and he’d acted like it was business as usual, told me the bar was doing fine. But the inn is so far underwater, the bar hasn’t seen customers in God-knows-how-long, and I just want to leave and go back to my life, but I can feel it. I’m getting sucked in to whatever shit went down in Rangeley.”